PostAWeek2011

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We were eating lunch and I found where I left off on Holly’s Blog. The post contained this paragraph:

And yet I can’t help but feel unfulfilled being unfilled. Partly this is because of baggage: if a guy can’t get it up for intercourse that means I’m not sexy and if he refuses intercourse that means he doesn’t really like me. (Especially as popular wisdom holds that guys never refuse intercourse, therefore if it happens to me it must be really bad news.) Some of that’s probably true, too. Not “augh I’m a warthog,” but “I don’t have a close enough relationship with anyone for them to be fully sexually open to me” really is true, I think.

This is how I feel way too often. I mean, I know I’m not the prettiest princess and that I really need to lose a few pounds… or 20… but that doesn’t mean I’m not attractive. Plenty of guys let me know that I’m attractive. I get hit on or at least checked out, which actually feels nice, all things considered. But what feels the best is when close friends make it clear that I deserve so much, because they think I’m special and fantastic and attractive. Granted, most of them might just say those things because they want to steal me away from Irish or something. Who knows? I can only TRY to understand what others think.

I guess what I just don’t understand then is how my current situation happens. Holly’s post was talking about having a lot of everything-but sex which was leaving her feeling unfulfilled. I would love that to be my situation. At least it’s something. I just hate feeling like I’m not attractive because I’m not getting attention from the only one who actually matters.

And it’s not like we haven’t talked about it, either. Because we have. Ad nauseam. But I guess it just goes to show that what they say is true, you can’t change a man. But I keep trying regardless.

Maybe I’m being too needy or something again.

I’m gonna go catch up on some more Pervocracy, since Irish is playing Fallout. So much for hitting the gym together. Sigh.

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Pro Tip #2

When a girl mentions in passing that she’s not into all that cliche Valentine’s Day stuff… ignoring it is usually a safe bet.

Case in point:
While talking to Irish a few weeks ago, I had mentioned my Valentine’s Day experience from last year, including how Jay had gotten me everything – teddy bear, balloon, flowers, card, chocolates, etc. – because I had never gotten any of that stuff before. But in that case, it was too little, too late. Damage had been done to the relationship that just couldn’t be undone with cute or tasty gifts.

Well even after hearing that, I received an edible arrangement, teddy bear, and balloon at work yesterday. It was awesome and I was squeeing like a fool. Unfortunately it was after 5 so most people had gone home, but I still texted some friends and ran to my girl upstairs to have a girly squealing fit together. And to share a chocolate covered piece of fruit.

I had already received a box of chocolates from Irish that he had AngryGinger grab for him, and I figured that was all I’d be getting. I was wrong. And I’m glad I was.

Also, when he was making the steaks for dinner (so very delicious), I checked my email and saw he had sent me a gift certificate for Squishable.com so that I can get myself a fox when it comes back in stock. I started squeeing again and ran over and hugged him for ages. It was awesome.

So the safest bet when it comes to Valentine’s, or really any holiday, is to get your girl something small at least, just to show you care. Even if it’s just a card. But if you think she’s more receptive, then go bigger, because it will be appreciated, and you will get hella brownie points.

Even is she says she doesn’t want to exchange gifts, you should still get her something. Saying that you’re not going to get each other gifts on a holiday for financial reasons or something is a TRAP. Better safe than sorry, and in this case it’s better to err on the side of giving too much, to an extent of course. Keep it sweet and simple.

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Gun Shopping

We went gun shopping with AngryGinger a few weeks ago and it has been cemented: if I buy a gun, I want a Sig Sauer Mosquito. Probably not the pink one anymore, but just the basic black. And I totally want a thigh holster for it like Jill Valentine from Resident Evil 5. Like this. Cuz next time I do that costume, I want it to be more authentic. And I’ve got a better blue shirt now since AngryGinger gave me this for Xmas. Even though it’s a men’s style, it still fits pretty well. So it’s cool.

And IrishBro gave Irish a tactical belt that I might be able to steal from him to use as well. A few weeks ago I looted a grenade holster pack from a friend as well as a bunch of Army BDUs and such. He was moving and just wanted to get rid of extra stuff. And I’m a geek for anything military so…. it worked. If Irish ever wears that stuff, so help me…. he’s gonna get jumped so hard. I really wish he still had his Marines stuff, cuz the Marines are the sexiest armed forces, in my opinion.

I’m gonna go fantasize about that for awhile now…. sigh…

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Pro Tip #1

Time for a new segment that I hope continues: Pro Tips. Here’s the first of many:

When I’m venting and bitching, just let it happen. Don’t tell me I’m wrong or try to solve my problem, unless I ask for it. Cuz really, I know why I have to do these things I bitch about having to do, but I still just need to get the frustration out of me.

Men tend to want to solve problems instead of listening. Not that I’m complaining that they want to help, but sometimes we just don’t want it.

Something women don’t tell men… Don’t help unless we ask for it. Just listen while we bitch.

Of course, the flip side of that is men like to fix stuff, so maybe we should open a bitchfest with, “just venting here” or something that triggers the “solving” area of their brains to shut down.

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Sacrifice

Grapple asked me a question that I’ve often wondered about myself as well:
Why do I sacrifice so much of myself for others?

I’ve never been able to fully answer this question for myself, let alone for someone else, but here’s my best amalgamation of an answer:

I’m always trying to help people solve the problems in their lives, while putting my own needs on hold. Maybe I feel that helping them could help me. Or if I help them, they’ll appreciate it and feel closer to me, letting me into their heart as I’ve let them into mine. If there is anything at all that I can do for them, I must do it.

I seek approval and reaffirmation of my life. I feel like I have a purpose in life if I help someone. If I don’t do everything possible for them, I’m not fulfilling my purpose and therefore am useless. If what I do is rejected, I’m a failure. I have failed not only myself, but that person as well, and anyone else it could’ve affected.

I want to be loved. I give all of myself to someone, hoping to receive the same in return. But that never happens. No matter how much I give, I’m going to get the same amount back – whatever amount they want to give. I can’t change that, but since I feel it is my purpose to get them to open up, and I continuously fail, I’m a failure and become depressed, causing more feelings of inadequacy and emptiness.

It is an endless cycle of hurt, heartbreak, and frustration.

And I do it constantly. Even now.

Without someone to dote on and cherish and give up everything for, I feel empty, useless, homeless, without purpose. I feel like there is no point to living if I’m not living for someone else. Being their rock, their shepherd, their partner. The one they need.

I want to be needed. Not just loved, but necessary. However, I want to be needed because I’m loved, not loved because I’m needed. I want my partner to realize they can’t live without me because they love me and are in love with me; they need me there just to survive the day-to-day trials, tribulations, and tortures of life; they need be with them to be happy; they need me just to sleep peacefully at night; they love me too much to put into words and express; they just need me. That’s what I want, and it’s something I’ll never have. And although I know that, I’ll continue to want, strive, and hope for it.

I want someone to make me feel like I’m the only one in the world for them, and mean it. I want to be able to take on the world with them, and win. I want to know that I hold their heart, and they hold mine. I want to be able to trust they will never throw me away, and have that trust be proven.

I give because I cannot receive.  In some cases, will not. When someone tries to be open and loving to me, in a way that is greater than what I feel, I shut them out, lock down, and push them away. If I start receiving emotion I haven’t worked for and earned, surely it is too good to be true. Clearly they are lying to me, trying to lure me into something, making me believe them so they can turn sides and trap me against my will. They don’t love me, they only think they do. Because I’m so open and loving and easy to love. If I let myself fall into their open arms, eventually they will drop me. So I run. I run away from the love they try to give that is unwarranted. Undeserved.

I search out those who are cold and closed off to love, so that I may be the one to pry their heart open and let them love again, to have them love me. I want to fix them, for they are broken. I want to change them, to help them better their lives, to teach them how to live. But are they really broken? Or is it me that is actually broken? A puzzle missing a piece – taking every piece I find and trying to shape it properly to fill the void, forcing pieces where they don’t belong – hurting myself in the process of finding my missing element. I continue to work though – pushing harder, shaving off bits of myself to try to make the other fit, twisting every way imaginable to accommodate them.

But it never works. And it never will. My sacrifice is always in vain.

I emerge from the wreckage – broken, beaten, and scarred – and immediately search again.

I realize that the perfect piece to fill the void won’t have to be altered, shaped, and accommodated for. I won’t have to twist and turn and alter myself in order to fit them into my life and my heart. It will just work.

But here’s the kicker: If I sit around and wait for that perfect one, I’ll feel useless and empty, putting myself into a depression in which I cannot open myself to anyone, even that perfect one.

So why do I sacrifice so much of myself for others? It’s all I know how to do, and without it I have nothing. No matter how much I give, I will continue to give more, until I either break down their wall or break down myself. I think it’s obvious which happens more.

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Quick Hit

Just wanted to do a quick post before I leave for the day. And I just finished up a project today that’s called a “quick hit”, hence the post title.

Monday morning I woke up sick. And I mean siiiick…. It was pretty terrible. I had apparently eaten something bad on Sunday. I didn’t even leave the bathroom all morning and still went to work, then was sent home after my work for the day got distributed to others and I finished whatever I had to do then. I only got docked 4 hours and that’s out of my sick time anyway, so it’s fine.

Irish was off for MLK day and I got him to hit CVS for some Imodium and Powerade. Granted, he went out of his way and got himself lunch while he was out, even though CVS is 2 minutes from our house and I was miserable…. but anyway…

I slept and laid around all day and he played Red Dead Redemption, ignored me and my pain, and enjoyed his day off. I felt like I was imposing on him or something, since he didn’t get to have the house to himself as he wanted.

I had found all 4 Resident Evil movies recently, so we watched the first 2 that night. They were better than expected. I was afraid I wouldn’t sleep well because of them though, but I was fine. Slept like a rock in fact. And thankfully so, cuz I woke up feeling better, not 100%, but better. I went to work, ate weird “safe” foods, and muddled through.

I’m feeling a lot better now though. And although I don’t want to cut this short, it’s 5pm, and I’m outta here.

Later.

 

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After that whole fandango went down, we were talking about our previous Valentine experiences. I told him how until last year, I hadn’t had the stereotypical gifts on V-Day (candy, card, balloon, bear, etc.), but Jay changed that. And it was stupid and terrible. Also, it was made worse by the fact that I didn’t love him anymore, but that’s beside the point.

I mentioned that other than the gifts, I couldn’t remember V-Day being all that good with Jay. Then he said, “I think WE were together on Valentine’s Day.” This was a huge memory shock. I had almost forgotten about that. We went to Don Pablos for dinner and had the Fajitas for Two Valentine’s Special (which I found amusing, and now ironic) and then we saw Percy Jackson: Lightning Thief. I remember using AngryGinger as my cover story since Jay hated the mere idea of Irish, let alone me being alone with him. And for good reason I guess.

So here we are, and we’ve come full circle. I’m a college grad now, I’m no longer on psych meds, I’m employed at a good company that is actually 9-5, we’re living together, and he’s finally learning to be a boyfriend, kinda.

Life isn’t perfect. It’s an adventure.

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I already had my big plan for Valentine’s Day all worked out. I was going to drive Irish to the Verizon Store, and he could pick out his new phone, in all likelyhood the Droid X, and I would buy it for him. And an Otterbox case for it if he wanted one. This weekend ruined that.

I paid the $200 electric bill this month. I paid $400 toward the rent. So he had some extra money and decided it was a perfect time to buy his new phone. I told him he should wait, say, a month, just to be sure it’s what he wanted. And since I had to drive him there, I said I was okay with shopping for it, but not buying just yet. I didn’t want to tell him why he should wait, ruining the surprise, but figured he’d wait anyway.

I was wrong. Shocking.

Within 5 minutes of talking to an employee he said “alright, I’ll take it” and my jaw dropped. I was speechless, confused, and frustrated. I barely said a word after that until we got into the car and he asked if I was upset about it. Well, duh.

I explained to him that I was gonna buy him one for Valentine’s Day, if he would’ve just waited. And that yes, of course I’m upset about it. He didn’t listen to me. He didn’t trust my opinion on it. And he didn’t get the hint to just wait when I said it over and over and I’ve done this kind of thing before with him (I told him not to buy something because Santa might be getting for him, he understood then). He just thought I was trying to tell him how to spend his money, which I wasn’t. Admittedly, there’s part of me that is bitching inside about how he wanted me to help with rent and BGE and then he goes and spends that money on other stuff, but whatever.

He also apparently wasn’t expecting me to get him anything for Valentine’s, cuz no girl’s ever given him something before. So we decided that we were just going to call it his Valentine’s present anyway. And I told him I might still give him a card and a blowjob as a placeholder. Maybe 2. To this, he had the perfect response: “What am I gonna do with 2 cards?” Brilliant! I haven’t decided how I meant it yet. I just hope to get laid that day/weekend. Maybe twice if I’m lucky.

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We saw Season of the Witch this weekend with BoobsMcGee and friends. It was alright. Tons creepier than I thought it was gonna be, and not really all that good. Nicholas Cage was playing a different kind of role at least, which was refreshing. I hadn’t heard all that much about it and didn’t really know what to expect. And the previews before it were all movies that looked very ‘meh’ and I had never heard of either. Very much a B-Movie experience. And considering I paid for both Irish’s ticket and my own, it was even worse.

But after the movie, the guys invited us to Serafino’s the next day to watch the Ravens game. I was totally excited to go and that we got invited. They’d apparently been doing it all season, and just never sent us an invite. Well, I didn’t get one at least. Most of the time, they’ll send something to Irish and just assume he’ll tell me about it. Well that doesn’t happen. And no one seems to retain that information when I enlighten them to it. Oh well…

We did end up going to Serafino’s though, and it was pretty cool. They had $1 sliders but they tasted burnt. Someone else got a different batch later and they were fine, but I still didn’t like them. They had mozzarella cheese on them and it wasn’t nearly as good as it sounds. At least the 22oz draft Yuengling was good. And we walked out only spending $12 total. Granted, I had made a decent breakfast that morning at 11ish of cinnamon rolls, eggs, and bacon, so we weren’t all that hungry. And we only stayed til halftime. He was tired and had a Spirit of the Century game to get to by 4. And since his car’s in the shop right now, that meant either I had to drive his ass there, or he had to get picked up by someone also going to game. The latter happened, thankfully.

While he was gone, I played some Fable 3 and got some of the last achievements I need to complete the game. There’s a glitch with the Popularity Contest one. You have to get 20 friends, but the counter goes down over time, as you apparently lose friends. Why you don’t get it automatically when you become king or queen, I don’t know. That would make too much sense I guess. Sigh. But I did finally get the King Henry cheevo: Get married 6 times as royalty and kill 2 of them. There are still a bunch online that I need to get, but that’ll happen all at once. It doesn’t work to just have Irish login and join my game, it has to be someone connected through Live. Which means I either do them with a random person, the rare actual friend who has Fable 3, or rent a second copy to play on a borrowed xbox after moving the saved game to the borrowed hard drive. So much crap.

Anyway though, I played that awhile until Irish came home and made bratwurst for dinner, which were pretty good. But then insisted on playing Borderlands with Guardian until midnight or so. I tried to work on actual work to get a start on the project due at noon today, but I got a few more pages into it, and just had to give up. I was too tired. And frustrated with my computer being lame.

I went to bed around 11pm and his game was keeping me awake, but I still tried to sleep. Then I finally drift off and he comes to bed, waking me up again. Then this morning was really hard. I felt crappy in general and was actually quite frustrated that the weekend was gone already. Without any good reason though, I was quietly sobbing, not crying really, but shaking and there were involuntary eeps and squeaks coming from me.

I guess Irish noticed because he pulled me out of the fetal position I had wrapped myself into, and held me close to him. A few more sobs escaped my lips, but I definitely felt a lot better and comforted by his embrace. Granted, it led to other things, but that helped relieve the stress inside me too. And it got me moving so I could eventually get up and get ready for work. Not that I wanted to leave his side then, but at least it got my mopeyness out of the way for the time being. And that’s all I needed right then.

Sometimes he gives me just what I need. Whether it’s what I think I need or want isn’t always true, but the fact that he can do that even sometimes, is pretty awesome.

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Guns

I’m bored at work and catching up on some Pervocracy posts. I’ve finally hit 2009! I came across this post where Holly bought a Tac 9 and just felt like sharing it, since I’ve been looking at getting a gun sometime this year or so.

My own fascination for guns has always gravitated toward Sig Sauers in general and after seeing this other post of Holly’s, my love was cemented. I looked for this very gun and found it new or gently used for around $300-$350. Not bad for a gun. Granted, it’s a .22 so the hit will be like a mosquito bite (hence the name I guess), but it’s also a lot cheaper to fire at the range.

Irish has a Colt 1911 .45  that has a lot more stopping power (the bullet is twice the size of the .22), and if ever a home invasion occurs, would be the one I’d go for, but I kinda want my own, less testosterone-filled gun to just…have. I feel like I’d be able to feel better about things in general with my own protection by my side. I’ll need to get some sort of permit for it, but working in the heart of Baltimore might be a decent reason. Who knows?

This all started years ago, but didn’t really come to fruition until he showed me his gun (giggidy) and let me hold it, cock it, and pull the trigger on an empty chamber. I had this huge rush of just….wow. I’m not even sure why, but I felt empowered. I felt self-sufficient. I felt safe. Ever since then, I’ve had occasional dreams/nightmares where someone breaks into the house and I grab the gun, come clomping down the hall, cock the gun loudly, hold it pointed straight at the guy’s chest, and yell “Get outta my house!” Sometimes with “Dirtbag!” or something tacked on the end there.

I know I’d never be able to actually do that, but it’s interesting to know my subconscious is more daring than I.

I’ve seen the pink Sig Sauer Mosquito online, but can’t find it in stores, and honestly don’t think it’d be nearly as scary against an invader as the all-black version. But I own nothing pink, really. I think it’d be fitting that the one pink thing I’d have would be a gun. I’m still debating which one I want, but I’ve got all the time in the world.

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